The Lifecycle of Stars
by Azheria
Summary: Anything is possible in space, even the idea that a male omega can enlist in Starfleet and become a leader. Spock navigates hardship and role prejudice in a world still rebuilding their ideals after social reform. He ends up doing so much more aboard the Starship Enterprise.
1. Stellar Nursery

Amanda held her son for the first time in her arms, and cried from relief. They swept away the damp stains left by the hours of agony and sweat. If she had the least inclination, she might have begun the meditation breaths that would let her regain control on her emotions. Amanda could care less what the two other women attending her thought. She held her _son_.

When her husband's proximity became close enough for their link to let tangible thoughts cross, she let the world in as well. Yet despite her exhaustion, Amanda instinctively wanted to hide him away from Sarek. Something in the way that her husband looked down on his son with sincere concern made Amanda cold inside.

They had told her that he was healthy, why was Sarek worried? It was the way Sarek said the name "Spock" that Amanda knew. It echoed across their bond, strong enough for even her to notice. She tried not to let the shock bleed into her surface thoughts.

Her baby boy, her precious miracle, was an omega.

But he looked so much like her and Sarek. How could this have happened? Amanda frowned in silence, and her husband took note of her sudden distress, no matter how well she hid it. Still, she tried to put on a brave face and said the name out loud.

"Spock," she said. "Spock."

He was so beautiful, Amanda thought, of course he was an omega. What that implied scared her. She hadn't the first idea on how to handle male omega. They were extremely rare, and before the reform on Earth, Amanda and many others had not been aware of their existence. Those not hidden and protected by their families usually were treated worse than female omegas.

Amanda did understand how to treat a female omega though. She understood the basics of their biology and roles in society. Her sister had been an omega after all. Surely with Sarek's logic and experience with the reform on Vulcan—which predated Earth's—they would manage.

Perhaps Spock could remake what it meant to be a male omega. He was already changing the world by being born as the first Vulcan-Human hybrid. She stroked Spock's ears again, the corner of her eyes wet again. Oh yes, the Vulcan part of him would be evident to all.

Sarek sensed the change in her mood through their link and brushed the hair from her forehead in a very Human gesture. Amanda let the worry slip away for a while as she held Spock and scented her child for the first time. It was strong enough for her to recognize without deep breaths, but would soon fade. The omega scent was distinguishable from her own beta pheromones.

He was warm and sweet.

"Hello, Spock."

* * *

Sarek watched Amanda hold Spock's hand as they walked to the doctor's office. He stood precisely two paces behind them. If they were to implement a change of opinion on the role of an alpha to match law, Sarek's example would expedite the matter amongst his peers. Even though the gesture would seem small, Sarek knew that others would note the nontraditional distance behind his beta wife and consider their own actions.

He would do everything in his power to change things before Spock was of age.

Today was Spock's annual checkup. Sarek did not expect anything of importance to happen since his son was only four years old, but it would set Amanda's mind at ease for him to attend, so he did. Sarek approached the desk as his wife and son sat down and began to play with a PADD.

"Sarek," the assistant acknowledged his approach.

"Appointment for S'chn T'gai Spock," he stated. "I have an update on his condition to submit, as requested." Sarek handed the data chip to the assistant, who took it and entered a confirmation.

The assistant reviewed the information but made no comment. "You will be summoned in exactly 13 minutes."

Without further comment, Sarek sat down next to Spock with uncertainty. The assistant had not made any assurances that the data showed no change, as he had the last three times. Sarek looked at Amanda, who was showing Spock how to input a code sequence.

"It is like a different language," Spock perceived.

Amanda smiled, her face lighting up with pleasure. "Very good observation, computers run on their own language, and just like different species, they can have different languages and dialects as well."

Sarek chose to watch Amanda interact with Spock rather than returning his attention to a delayed transmission he had received. Her manner made Sarek recall when they first met, and her profession as a teacher. He considered her lovelier as time went on, but knew that to be sentiment.

"I'm going to teach you this way of programming first so you have a good foundation," she continued to explain. "Do you know why?"

Spock's eyes should not have expressed the frustration he felt towards Amanda, and it unsettled Sarek that it was easily read. The boy was emotionally unschooled compared to his peers, and he was at the developmental stage where their opinions would begin to affect Spock.

"Yes, mother. I will be able to branch out to other programming languages if I learn the most efficient and basic of their forms," Spock said.

Amanda smiled, though Sarek could tell that she had noted his frustration and was perplexed at its source. Instead of praising Spock's deduction as she had before, Amanda tapped in a sequence into the PADD and waited. Spock took the PADD in both hands, face tense with concentration as his eyes scanned the screen.

After a moment, Amanda gave him a hint by typing in another code and watched as his face relaxed into comprehension. He responded by moving a strand of numbers to another order. Amanda looked delighted at his response. Sarek felt pride along their link before it slipped away.

Spock worked on it for another minute until the screen flashed bright in his accomplishment. He handed it to his mother in expectation. Amanda took it and cleared the program so that she could input a new source. They continued to play like that until the assistant summoned them.

When Spock tried to rush ahead despite his short strides, Amanda frowned and said his name. Disproval evident in her tone and the way she pointed to her side. Their son drooped as he returned, and was a step behind Amanda as they entered the office.

Sarek paused as he took note of this. Was Amanda expecting their son to behave as an omega would, or was she teaching him the forms of polite behavior observed by Humans? It was difficult to distinguish, because she had not done anything as drastic as tell him that omegas never led the way, but Sarek was overly sensitive to anything that might be seen as omega discrimination.

He would have to talk with her about the matter in addition to the new issue that the doctor would inform them of today. Sarek knew there had been a change in the trend of data that they had faithfully collected on Spock as requested. He had suspected once he had made an uneducated analysis of the information, and the assistant's response had all but proved it.

Sarek thought back to the contentment he felt in watching Amanda teach Spock the beginnings of programming, and he tucked it away for later.


	2. Forming Protostars

"I don't like it, Sarek," Amanda finally admitted. "The tradition seems archaic, if I'm going to be honest."

"I agree," he said.

Amanda looked at her hands, pale from clasping them tight enough to cut off circulation. The worry was not expressed elsewhere though. Sarek did not interrupt her thought process, knowing that it would annoy her.

"We should let Spock decide," she said.

Sarek controlled the frown and kept his face simply stern. "He's only seven," he reminded.

That seemed to anger Amanda. Her gaze scorched him with its intensity as she said, "And yet you want to marry him off to some stranger! He's a smart boy, and he'll resent us if we do this without his input."

There was pride in those words. Sarek acknowledged her point with a nod, though he wanted to correct her misconception. Amanda relaxed.

"I will explain the situation to Spock," he demanded. "He must understand how serious the consequences will be if he does not bond soon."

Amanda considered it quickly before smiling. "You're going to tell him about the birds and the bees then?"

"He has already studied the basics of anatomy and biology, Amanda," he answered stiffly.

She laughed, her eyes teasing him. Sarek narrowed his own.

"Goodness, how have Vulcans managed so far without me. Let me handle explaining love to him," she suggested. "You help him with his homework."

Sarek felt warmth linger along their bond and wrapped it closer. "That is acceptable."

That evening, Sarek sat on Spock's bed, and waited for him. When Spock entered his room, he sat beside his father. The top of his head still did not reach Sarek's shoulders despite this, but the doctors had assured them that this was not uncommon for male omegas to not have significant height changes until they were well into adolescence.

Sarek was direct. "Your hormonal imbalance has not corrected itself despite the treatments. The symptoms will soon negatively affect you if we do not perform the Kan-Telan."

Spock seemed to have trouble meeting his father's eyes. He did not fidget though, so it was a noteworthy improvement from last year. When Spock did not say anything in response, Sarek continued to explain.

"This will be your choice, Spock, but you must understand what the implications of this decision will be. We have the option to seek more experts pertaining to your issue, but that will take time that you may no longer have," he emphasized. "If we wait until you have begun puberty, there will be little that they can do. There is a study that suggests linking your mind to another, at least in this way, will convince your system to realign yourself appropriately."

"If I was completely Vulcan, I would not have this problem."

Sarek was unsure if Spock was stating his opinion or posing it as a question. He chose to regard it as the later.

"The study indicated that this was not an uncommon for all omega male Vulcans," he reassured Spock. "In this matter, there is nothing unusual about your situation."

That seemed to encourage Spock enough to meet Sarek's inquisitive gaze with brown eyes strikingly similar to Amanda's. Spock nodded. He would agree to the bond.

"Do you know who will agree to the ceremony?" Spock asked.

Sarek considered for a moment. His son was being unusually amenable with his recommendations. A sign of maturity? If so, Sarek was relieved. Spock would be better able to interact with his peers at the Vulcan Learning Center.

"Her name is T'Pring."

* * *

Spock tested the link with his mind again, fascinated by the strange and foreign sensations. T'Pring withdrew in response. He looked at her from across the table. She was watching him as well, expression devoid of any emotion.

_Your thoughts are loud,_ T'Pring complained.

He withdrew behind his shields as well. Spock did not want to hurt her. He did not apologize though. According to the other males at the Learning Center, apologies were illogical. Spock sensed that she understood his regret, however.

T'Pring pushed a book across the table. _For you._

"Thank you," he said aloud so that Amanda would not think he was without manners.

She waited for him to examine the title before explaining. _These are instructions for different types of meditation. _

A looming shadow appeared in his mind. Spock knew that the images he saw were pale overlays from her imagination. He did not react despite the coldness he felt down his spine. T'Pring understood that the others were singling him out at the Learning Center for his lack of emotional control, and that she wanted to protect him in her own way.

_Do all omegas let others fight their battles?_ he wondered.

T'Pring's eyelids fluttered, her delicate features echoing her surprise. _I am not ashamed to be an omega. We are different and weaker than others, so we must find other ways of protecting ourselves._ She did not flinch at the frustration that surged down their link. _I think you will understand later, Spock. It is still dangerous to be an omega. There are people that would hurt us._

Spock could not envision a situation where anyone would attempt to take advantage of T'Pring. She sat poised and in control of what happened to her. That anyone would want to hurt her seemed wrong to him.

_Surely the alpha instinct would not allow them to attack an omega,_ he thought.

_You're wrong._

"I'm assuming that the reason you two are so quiet is because the link is working?" Amanda interrupted. She didn't smile down at the two children, but Spock knew that she wanted to. "Can you talk with one another telepathically? I could never manage a whole conversation."

Spock folded his hands primly in his lap. "Yes, mother. I have been able to differentiate T'Pring's thoughts from my own for 9.34 minutes now."

"Affirmative," T'Pring attested. "We are also able to transmit images and emotions."

Sarek said to Amanda, "Their bond is strong for such a young age. They will be compatible enough to bring stability to one another."

T'Pring caught Spock's eye. _I'm helping you too?_

_It would seem that both of us have a hormonal imbalance issue,_ Spock concluded. A _yes_ rushed into his mind along with images of an endless cycle of doctor visits and hospital treatments. Spock tried to share some of his own experiences, but did not quite have the skill for the transference.

Sarek turned to T'Pring's parents to begin arrangements for further meetings. Their continued proximity would not only help the bond, but hopefully also regain an equilibrium that their bodies could maintain. T'Pring would have to attend the same Vulcan Learning Center as Spock, but her parents did not consider that an issue.

Spock could feel her sadness though, since both of their mental shields were not fully in place. T'Pring would miss her friends. She was worried that she would be alone.

He tried to reassure her, _We'll be friends._

_I know. But…_

Spock understood. She was concerned with what others would think about their link. They were both omegas, which seemed to be an issue, and Spock was a half breed, which was definitely an issue.

Apologies were illogical, but Spock could feel T'Pring's _sorry_ linger along their bond. He withdrew behind his shields, trying to regain emotional control.

"Let's go, Spock," Amanda touched his arm lightly.

He blinked up at her. She was worried again. Unable to meet T'Pring's eyes, he stated his farewell, and left with his parents.

Spock didn't look back, but he could feel her eyes on him.


	3. Gravitational Collapse

The heat was intense, even for Vulcan. All other creatures hid in their dens and shadows, conserving precious water against the rage of the sun. Spock should have been doing the same. He had not made the decision logically though. He did not stop running and find shade to prevent dehydration.

Spock was not running away from someone or towards any destination that he could see with his eyes. There was a need to run though, and he might have entertained the idea that if he ran far enough, it would be out of everyone's reach. Therefore, by definition, Spock was running away.

Red sand that gave way underneath him soon became firm. If he stopped to investigate, then Spock might have seen the cracks in the ground. Pebbles littered the landscape in a cacophony of muted colors. Ahead were the hills of rock and boulders. Uncharted chasms and caverns were the norm in this part of Vulcan. Spock adjusted his stride to match the more treacherous terrain, but did not slow down.

He knew he should stop and process what he had seen on the terminal screen, but instead jumped across a crevice that was approximately a meter wide. Thanks to the need for total concentration, his mind had been empty of all emotion. Spock threw up his mental shields at the first touch of concern. He did not want T'Pring in his thoughts.

It was only when his lungs burned and nostrils stung that Spock began to take on a measured pace. When he swallowed, he tasted copper at the back of his throat. He needed to find shelter. Spock felt the sun begin to sap at his strength and knew that his flight had been foolish. He had nothing but the clothes he was wearing and was at the fringes of Sas-A-Shar Desert.

Spock stopped on a rocky outcropping to have a better view of his surroundings. His eyes had trouble adjusting to the still searing light, but he soon made out what he believed to be the Gateway several kilometers away. Spock looked back towards the sand cruiser he had left. It was barely discernible, being more than twice the distance of the Gateway, but Spock could make out the metal's reflection.

The taste of sand was in his mouth, and a gust of wind full of grit made Spock blink against the sting. Once his nictitating membrane began to function properly, the tears would be swept away. Until then, his tears were a necessity, not of emotion. That was the essential point to remember: Vulcans were dictated by logic.

He could still go back. Enough time had passed that they would have realized what happened though. They would find the cruiser missing and the terminal destroyed. Spock would have to explain what he had seen.

Spock felt the equivalent of someone politely knocking on the door to his mind. He knew it was T'Pring. Again, nausea and shock took hold as he remembered the message she sent him. Spock enforced his shields until he could no longer feel T'Pring's connection to his mind.

There was a part of him that believed if he completed _kahs-wan,_ it would prove to everyone that he was not weak. Spock wanted no one to touch him or hurt him the way he had seen. T'Pring had been right. Alphas had no issues hurting omegas.

_Especially male omegas._

Spock scented the air. His Vulcan traits were dominant, his sense of smell strong enough to detect the ozone and moisture in the air. There would be an electrical storm later. Already, the wind speed had increased, and cloud formations were developing.

The seven year old watched the sun disappear behind the towering cumulus and felt the hairs on his nape and arms begin to stand on end. It would seem that his first order of business would be to survive a desert storm. Spock wasted no time searching for a stable area that would withstand erosion from flash floods.

By the time the sand stung his face and he could no longer see due to lack of light, Spock sent one message down his link with T'Pring. For a moment, she did not answer, and Spock stumbled against another boulder that allowed him some protection.

_Why do I need to apologize to your parents on your behalf?_

Spock protected his face and arms by curling into a fetal position at the base of the boulder. The darkness was frightening until he focused inward. He also tried breathing through his shirt, but it proved to be too caked with dust to allow proper inhalation without a fit of coughing.

_I can see through your eyes. You are at the Forge,_ T'Pring surmised.

Spock finally caught his breath and found a position that protected his face from the elements. He gathered his thoughts in reply, _Kahs-wan._

T'Pring understood instantly. _You are too young! I only just finished my own, Spock. You do not need to do this now._

_I will._ Spock tried to send all of his determination with the thought.

_I sense you are emotionally compromised,_ she criticized. _You are acting illogical, and should return immediately._

In response, Spock pushed all of his feelings of hurt and disgust down their link, hoping to shock her. Her mind recoiled. With the equivalent of a shout he thought, _Stop ordering me around as if I were lesser than you! Just because you are older and _normal_ gives you no right to dictate what choices I make._

_I may be an omega like you, Spock, but I am not the one completely losing their emotional control. _T'Pring prevented any further retaliation by closing her mind to him.

Spock shrank into himself, shivering. She was right. He was emotionally compromised. Terrified of his reaction, Spock began a meditative trance to focus his mind. Ironically, it was one of the meditations outlined in the book T'Pring had gifted him after they were bonded. She had known that he would need it.

Each layer of emotion was identified, categorized, and filed for further examination when he had time for a proper meditation cycle. Spock relaxed as his mind became devoid of the clutter that had accumulated until he returned to the cataclysm of the day's events.

It had been a paper T'Pring was writing, and she requested his opinion. Spock had read about the history of social reform, but found himself doubtful of T'Pring's claims on the subject. Hoping to find better sources to aid her, Spock had begun his own research. What he found had shattered any sense of safety he felt.

The horror of finding documented experiments performed on omegas had sickened Spock. At the Vulcan Learning Center, they had discussed the social reform in clinical terms and from an intellectual standpoint. The social reform had simply been another point in history that they were required to discuss.

It had not prepared Spock for when he found pre-reform pictures of alphas torturing omega males. His curiosity had prompted him to bypass the filters on the terminal. The pictures had been posted very recently on a site that catered to those that had such fantasies.

There were people that fantasized about hurting male omegas.

There were people that would look at Spock and want to cut him open, use chains and strangle him, suspend him in the air, crack open his jaw and choke him as they laughed and took turns. Neither consent nor the law seemed to impact their wants. The worst part was that they had looked like normal people, alphas you would meet and consider safe.

Spock had no illusions on what was safe anymore.

Statistics showed that male omegas were still more in danger of being kidnapped, raped, murdered, discriminated against, robbed, mugged, and countless other atrocities than any other minority alive. Even Orion male omegas, which were abundant, had no protection in numbers. Social reform had done nothing other than bring these crimes to light. Spock's scent was a way for people to target him as another victim, and it was revolting.

He wished that he could wash away what he was with the sand that was scouring his skin raw at that very moment. Spock wished that he really believed that performing _kahs-wan _would give him an immunity, but logic would not let him delude himself. This was something he had to overcome.

The ground trembled beneath Spock in response to a lightning strike. The wind howled its fury. Somewhere far away, he could hear the sound of a _le-matya _calling. Something answered it.

And in the meager shelter of a boulder, the seven year old shook with the need to cry, but did not. He was Vulcan, and that meant control. He grasped that idea like the life line that it was. A litany fervently repeated until it was all that had room to echo in his mind, for sleep would not claim him.

_Control._

_Control._

_Control._

* * *

"If you were to converse with Stonn," Spock stated, "I would not be displeased."

T'Pring was startled out of her reverie. She had not been looking towards Stonn, nor had she been thinking of him. Spock's dark eyes regarded her across the chrome table, much like they had the first time she could distinguish his thoughts. There was nothing that would indicate emotion emanating from their link, but T'Pring had no trouble seeing them in Spock's eyes. They would always give him away.

"Why would I do so?" she asked.

Spock glanced down at the table to where her hands rested. His scrutiny shifted to where Stonn and his friends sat and then returned to her. T'Pring felt the tips of her ears warm, and tried not to flush even more at her lack of physical control. Spock had the grace not to let his gaze waver from her own, but T'Pring knew that he had observed her reaction.

Never one to continue lying after being caught, T'Pring raised her chin slightly in defiance. Her curls shifted away from her cheeks and exposed the scar. Spock glanced at it and his forefinger motioned towards the nearly imperceptible line.

Softly, "Are you not wary of alphas after your experience?"

"Yes," she answered. "I know better than anyone what can happen when one will not hear my dissent. Yet there is something about Stonn that calls to me."

"Fascinating."

T'Pring forced her expression to stay neutral. "Do not mistake my meaning, Spock. I am grateful for the balance we bring one another. When our time comes, I will not abandon you to the whims of an alpha," she promised. "You and I are _koon'ul-veh._"

This seemed to comfort Spock. He nodded once in confirmation, and stood to leave. T'Pring rose to join him. They walked together passed the table where Stonn sat.

T'Pring saw him watching her in silence. Her heart raced and she looked away. She would keep her promise to Spock.


	4. Sequence Stars

**A/N**: This chapter has been beta read by Azurala.

**6/10/14 Edit: **This chapter has also been beta read by thisislogical.

* * *

"When it is morally praiseworthy but not morally obligatory," he responded.

Spock detached himself from the sense of vanity he felt when he heard the clear tones of his answer proving correct. It was illogical to be modest with one's accomplishments, but Spock knew he had to strive more than his peers at retaining emotional control. He had surpassed his supposed limitations once again by answering every question correct.

The room grew bright to indicate the end of the lesson, and his eyes adjusted to the shifting light. Spock stepped out onto the walkway and concentrated on refocusing his mind on organizing the new information he had been given. While he could not feel pride—should not feel pride—Amanda was able to, and she would be glad to hear of his accomplish—

"Spock!"

He lifted his head, suddenly aware of the three alphas behind him, their young, hot blooded scent stinging his nostrils. All of them having completed their first rut and felt the urge to establish their dominance. Spock would have hated their stench if he was prone to hatred. He certainly felt apprehension in the depths of his mind.

"I presume you've prepared new insults for today," Spock theorized. Again, conceit filled him slightly before being controlled when he managed to not let his voice waver.

"Affirmative," Stonn replied.

Spock stood and faced them, mentally bracing to withstand their teenage pheromones that they still lacked Vulcan control of. Their dark eyes made Spock feel smaller. He was smaller than all of them. Despite being well into his adolescence, Spock had yet to gain height with the rest of his classmates.

Still…

"This is your thirty-fifth attempt to elicit an emotional response from me," Spock reminded. The use of numbers might bring them to their senses. He sincerely doubted it, however. Ever since T'Pring had rejected Stonn and publicized her link with Spock, Stonn had retaliated.

Stavok spoke without hesitation, obviously waiting for Spock to finish speaking without regard for what was being stated. "You're neither human nor Vulcan and therefore have no place in this universe."

Spock felt insignificant in comparison to his peers. He could tell the way they shifted that they had started to gain the muscle mass that was typically found in alphas. He was outmatched in every way. Spock suddenly felt infinitely tired and he wished to avoid this confrontation so he could return home.

"Look. He has human eyes. They look sad, don't they?" Svern observed. Spock tried to empty himself of any morose feelings that lingered in response, but he was unsure if he succeeded.

"Perhaps an emotional response requires physical stimuli," Stonn suggested.

Spock felt his body lock up unexpectedly. The last time these three had threatened to use 'physical stimuli' had been the last time he had reported anything to the instructors. Spock refused to face more accusations that he was being overly emotional to 'alpha posturing.'

Stonn's push caught him off guard, and Spock stepped back further than he would have if he had not frozen from the threat. They had never gone so far as to touch him—already Spock could feel this confrontation slipping out of control.

Memories were drawn up as if from a well: the unexpected flight into the Forge and the decision to perform _kahs-wan_ early; then, much later, when he was screaming for someone to find T'Pring, because they were _hurting_ her. Everything was reinforcing the idea that _alphas hurt omegas_. Despite this, Spock was still unable to grasp that he was also at physical risk.

"He's a traitor, you know. Your father. For marrying _her_." Stonn continued, having stepped closer to follow Spock.

It was becoming much harder to breathe than it should have been, and Spock knew the pieces of his control were falling apart. He was scared of Stonn, but more frightening was the anger pulsing underneath his skin.

"That human whore."

Spock could feel everything burst inside him as his face collapsed into a display of emotion. With nothing left to keep him in check, Spock gave an angry shout and shoved Stonn into one of the learning pods.

Spock could have run away then. He was fast and nimble, he would have escaped. But, that would mean having to deal with Stonn again the next day. Instead, Spock slid into the pod with the alpha.

Instinct should have prevented Stonn from retaliating against Spock, but it was overridden by the alpha's urges to fight and win. Spock could almost taste the alpha pheromones in his mouth as he staggered from the pain after Stonn punched him. Spock used that to focus his mind once again as he forced his muscle memory to execute a series of debilitating moves that allowed him to finally pin Stonn. His growls sounded very far away as the blood rushed through his system in response to the fear. Then, despite the sick pit in his belly, Spock punched Stonn just as he had been struck moments before.

Spock didn't stop until the instructor dragged him away, knuckles bloody, and cheeks damp with tears.

* * *

Amanda came rushing down the hall, and felt relief when she saw Spock sitting on a bench at the end. Sarek stopped her before she could run over to him though. "Amanda," he warned.

She stopped and asked, "Sarek, is Spock all right? Are they going to punish those boys? Who are their parents? I want to talk with them."

Sarek answered her in order, as she knew he would. "Spock will be fine. They will not punish the other children, Spock will be punished as the instigator. Their parents are irrelevant since I have already made the necessary apologies for Spock's actions."

Amanda stared at her husband for a moment before exploding in absolute fury. "What?" she shouted. "Are you serious? Those were alphas, Sarek! Spock was just defending himself, why is he being punished?"

Despite her raised voice, Sarek knew better than to match it. "Spock had no reasonable expectation of serious injury." Logic rarely held in the face of Amanda's rare emotional outbursts, but Sarek could try.

"Come on," Amanda nearly spat out. "They tease—they pick on him every day." Guilt snuck in, and she wished that she hadn't brushed off Spock's complaints so easily. Her sister had also dealt with alpha posturing when they were younger, and Amanda had thought it was the same with Spock.

"Which is precisely when reason must guide his actions," Sarek insisted.

"I want him to embrace Vulcan, you know that, but he has to be himself and that occasionally means being human."

Sarek looked away from Amanda and towards Spock. He noted that his son was unable to meet his gaze. Amanda's influence meant she had indirectly taught him how to act as a pre-reform omega rather than one with the rights recognized on Vulcan. Sarek was certain it had been unintentional, but the affects were painfully evident.

Sarek knew he had to point this out, despite her predictable reaction. "His humanity is the source of his ostracism."

Amanda huffed, and seemed speechless for a moment longer than usual. "When Vulcans get completely disgusted with each other, they never walk away, do they?"

"No," Sarek answered, puzzled.

"Well humans do." Amanda left, leaving Sarek to watch her make an example of her disgust and to deal with Spock alone until she could regain her composure.

* * *

He sat there, still and attentive, waiting for Sarek to finish talking with his mother. Spock lowered his eyes when his father came closer and sat down. Sarek exhaled, and that breath expressed more disappointment than anything Amanda could say to him.

"They called you a traitor," Spock answered Sarek's unasked question. He raised his face, trying to glimpse any clue to what his father was thinking.

Sarek processed the information before speaking. "Emotions run deep within our race. In many ways more deeply than in humans." He revealed. "Logic offers a serenity humans seldom experience."

Spock looked away, and Sarek tried to explain. "The control of feelings, so that they do not control you."

"You suggest that I should be completely Vulcan, and yet you married a human," Spock pointed out. He felt his throat close up when he considered what his father was asking of him. Spock forced the muscles to relax and tried to regain control of his racing thoughts so that they could be reordered.

"As ambassador to Earth, it is my duty to observe and understand human behavior," Sarek defended. "Marrying your mother was…logical."

Spock considered that aspect and felt it held a ring of falsehood. Reason, however, enforced his father's argument. If he was to become completely Vulcan as his father suggested, Spock intended to ignore the unhappiness he felt when Sarek had not admitted to love. Alphas were not the sort to proclaim declarations of affection.

"Spock," Sarek continued. "You are fully capable of deciding your own destiny. The question you face is, which path will you choose? This is something only you can decide."

A freedom Spock had never considered to be his was possible. Spock realized what his father was trying to say. Spock could choose to act as a post-reform Vulcan omega, and let nothing but his scent and cycles distinguish him from the rest of them. In fact, if he took suppressants, not even his scent would divulge his role.

Spock wanted this.

"How do I tell Mother?" he asked.

Sarek shook his head, anticipating his choice. "Let me be the one to converse with your mother."

"No," Spock declared, decisive. "I will not let others do what should be done by me." He stood. "I will tell her, and serve whatever punishment that they have decided for me. They will not treat me any less because of what I am."

* * *

He woke much later than he had anticipated, most of the day wasted in excessive sleep. Spock felt feverish and sick. Before his connection to T'Pring, he had often suffered through illness directly related to his hormonal imbalance, and Spock was reminded of this when he opened his eyes. Not only was he physically miserable, there was the same agony echoing his bond with T'Pring.

Spock stifled a groan and began to catalogue his experience, attempting to derive some solace in the familiar act. He was dehydrated, which was the main cause behind his migraine. There was light sensitivity and the typical nausea that came with such an affliction. Spock tried to sit up slowly and fought off a bout of dizziness.

His thoughts felt lethargic as he delved deeper to interpret his hormone levels. Spock noted his serotonin levels were spiking higher than usual, which explained why his cerebral cortex was suffering. When he also realized there was an increase in cortisol, Spock felt the same horror in T'Pring.

She was twenty-one years old and had begun _Pon Farr_. Spock had been her _koon'ul-veh_ since he was seven. Even though his own body was not ready for his first heat, their link was forcing him to match her.

Soon, he would feel the embarrassing slick between his thighs and the room would be filled with his scent. Spock could already sense the fever draping over his and T'Pring's thoughts. There was a want that neither of them could deny.

Neither of them had noticed the signs, and she was already deep into her heat. First times often were a surprise, even for Vulcans. With slight trepidation, Spock lowered his mental shields to allow for words to pass. T'Pring did the same.

_Where are you?_

_I don't know_, she managed to think through the fever.

Spock saw through her eyes, finally able to extract images after years of practice. _You're not at home. Where are you going? Let me come to you_, he offered. While they had agreed to take care of one another during _Pon Farr_, both of them had arrogantly believed that they would anticipate when it would happen.

_Hafa'uh! Stonn…_ _ashayam…_

Spock felt her mind devolve into more utterances of devotion and knew where she was going. He saw T'Pring slam her fists on a door, not withholding any of her strength. Stonn answered, eyebrows raised. She grasped his hand, letting the touch speak when she could not.

Stonn took her into his arms, scenting her and whispering, "_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_, T'Pring."

Spock managed to block the rest from his mind, but not before hearing T'Pring answer Stonn's declaration with a single thought.

_T'hy'la._

* * *

Keep an eye out for the next chapter update on Friday.

Next - "Red Giant"

thisislogical


	5. Red Giant

**A/N**: This chapter has been beta read by Azurala and TheGlassAuthor.

* * *

The chemical aftertaste was bitter in his mouth, but the effect was immediate. Spock's shoulders relaxed gradually. His cloyingly sweet scent dissipated enough to be unrecognizable. Spock walked out of his room and into the main foyer where he was welcomed with the alpha musk of his father's and the subtle and unpretentious fragrance of his mother—bergamot tea and salt.

Spock felt no reluctance leaving for the streets of _ShiKahr_. It was only an empty house while his parents were off world in a delegation. The shining floors gleamed from disuse, and the only other sound he could hear was of the fountain. Spock often felt as if he were a stranger there, passing by, quiet and unobtrusive as possible.

He did not have to walk for long, and soon was guided to a seat in a small tea shop. It was an establishment known for discretion due to the private meetings business meetings that were often hosted. The lighting and positioning of the room partitions imitated privacy while also being public enough to prevent rumors of indecency. Sitting across from Spock was T'Pring. The scene was a familiar one to both of them, for most of their interactions had been conducted across a table. This time, however, Stonn sat with her, and Spock watched him with wariness.

"Spock," T'Pring sighed, as if relieved. "It pleases me that you are here. The months since we have last spoken passed slowly."

If their link were open, she might have heard his unspoken quip that time had not passed slower or quicker. Spock instead stared at Stonn, spine stiff and unbending. He no longer looked away, and held the other's gaze until Stonn glanced away. A small triumph, but it told Spock enough about the situation.

"T'Pring," Spock finally acknowledged.

She took it as an opening for discussion. "You know I regret what happened between us. Even though my decision was logical, I admit that it was not originally one made with reason."

"You wish for me to release you," Spock anticipated, his manner cold and unwelcome. He did not wish to listen to T'Pring's explanation after what had been said the year before. Spock would not forget the pity in her eyes when she found him once the fires of her _plak-tau_ had been sated. "You demand _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_."

"No, Spock. I do not want you and Stonn to fight. I still care for you," she confessed. Stonn scowled at Spock, but she ignored him. "Will you not release me to be with the one who holds my heart?"

Spock felt a momentary lapse in his resentment. He did love T'Pring in his own way. They had been of one mind for so long, her thoughts had been his, and Spock did not want to cause her anguish. For a moment, the shields he had vigilantly maintained the last year were lowered.

Perhaps if T'Pring was aware that he was once again listening to her surface thoughts, she might have shown him the depth of her love towards Stonn. It was always there with her, but at the moment, T'Pring was also remembering.

_"I did not like the way you looked at him when we attended the Learning Center," Stonn whispered. His lips caressed her fingertips. The intimacy of such a gesture was still unfamiliar to T'Pring, and she flushed with pleasure._

_ "You have no cause for concern," T'Pring reassured him. He was still territorial after their coupling and needed her promise. "Spock and I will never become one. I was naïve to tell him otherwise."_

_ Stonn watched her with eyes that made her warm. "Omegas cannot protect one another. Such a coupling would lead to disaster."_

Spock tore himself from the memory and pleasing sensations. The shock of feeling Stonn's lips on his skin—experiencing it the same way T'Pring had—made Spock feel unclean. He saw comprehension and then alarm warp her face, and she made as if to touch him. Spock was faster and stood out of reach. His height made him loom over the couple.

"You are welcome to one another. I will have no part in this, but—" Spock's brow furrowed, "—I will not be the one betraying your promise. You must be the one to do that, if you have the strength of will."

Spock left them there, his movements sharp with rage. He could feel T'Pring's mind press against his shields, begging for access. With more power than either of them believed he possessed, Spock pushed her thoughts away and locked the pain behind a door far away in his mind. Once finished, he could not hear T'Pring, nor would he ever hear her again.

* * *

"Spock, come here, let me see you," Amanda demanded, reaching towards him. She wished desperately to hug her precious boy, but knew he would think she was coddling him.

He stopped several feet away. "No," Spock protested.

Amanda lowered her arms, frustrated. "Spock," she chastised, and he begrudgingly walked close enough for her to adjust his collar. He had grown so tall, so it was a bit of a reach. Amanda smiled. "There's no need to be anxious," she assured him. "You'll do fine."

"I am hardly anxious, Mother," Spock replied. "And 'fine' has variable definitions. 'Fine' is unacceptable." He mumbled the rejoinder in distraction.

Amanda knew better, and understood he was extremely distressed if he was nitpicking her word choice. "Okay," Amanda agreed, trying to not express the disquiet she felt.

Spock stopped her from straightening his collar further and held her hands when he finally met her gaze. "May I ask a personal query?"

"Anything," Amanda pledged.

He started speaking in bursts of speech, as if having to force himself to say the words. "Should I choose to complete the Vulcan discipline of _Kolinahr_, and purge all emotion, I trust you will not feel it reflects judgment upon you."

Spock was watching her with keen eyes, but she had two decades worth of practice keeping her true emotions hidden. Amanda was distraught underneath the layers of control. If he was considering _Kolinahr_, she had failed him. Spock wanted to turn away from his humanity completely. Amanda decided not to lie, but instead did something many Vulcans did. He did not need to know how hurt she was.

"Oh, Spock. As always, whatever you choose to be, you will have a proud mother," she promised.

Spock blinked in the Vulcan form of surprise, and Amanda was certain that he was grateful for her reaction. She smiled honestly this time, pride filling her. His was the mind that others would seek to understand, and it would be on Vulcan where he was safe from the dangers faced by omegas.

"Now, I'm done fussing," she admitted, patting his shirt one last time. "You look serious enough to face those boring old men at the panel."

"Mother," Spock admonished. "You are aware that Father serves on the Council."

Amanda smiled, teeth flashing as her eyes laughed up at her son.

* * *

"You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors. Your final record is flawless, with one exception. I see that you have applied to Starfleet as well."

"It was logical to cultivate multiple options," Spock retorted.

"Logical, but unnecessary. You are hereby accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy." Spock regulated his breathing. He focused back on the proceedings. "—remarkable, Spock, you have achieved so much despite your disadvantage."

Spock felt his hands grow cooler, and directed the blood flow to return as normal. He was not in a fight, yet his body was reacting to the anticipation of a confrontation.

"All rise."

And there it was. A deep seated anger rose up within as the Minister's words began to make sense. Social reform had been implemented in law for years now, but there were many older Vulcans still in positions of power that remembered a different way of life. Spock was supposed to feel grateful that he was allowed with the alphas when decades ago, he would have been kept at home or worse.

Spock felt his eyes narrow fractionally. "If you would clarify, Minister, to what disadvantage are you referring?"

"Your human mother," came the matter of fact reply.

Outrage coursed through him, and Spock did nothing to rein it in other than keeping his expression neutral. He was livid that yet another Vulcan was patronizing him about Amanda. Studies had proven countless times that it was not the mother's genetics that determined if a boy was born as an omega. Spock was furious that so many still believed the misconception when logic dictated otherwise.

Spock could feel his father's eyes warn him away from reacting, and for a moment, he met them. It only turned the anger into hurt. How could Sarek say nothing when he had been pivotal in the social reform movement so many years ago and then had the audacity to marry a human?

"Council. Ministers. I must decline," Spock declared.

The head minister seemed to take personal offense that his generosity was being spurned. "No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy."

Spock tilted his head slightly. "Then as I am half human, your record remains untarnished," he responded.

"Spock," his father interjected. "You have made a commitment to honor the Vulcan way." Spock was surprised to see there was confusion in Sarek's eyes.

"Why did you come before this Council today," the head minister questioned. "Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?"

Spock resented the implication. "The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude. Thank you, Ministers, for your consideration." He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and did not attempt to change the infliction to one of appreciation. Spock doubted that they believed his claim.

"Live long and prosper."

* * *

Spock gave one last look at his room, now empty of anything that made it his. Even his omega scent was almost completely masked by suppressants. Most of his belongings would be sent to Earth, but the larger furniture had to be placed in storage. Everything was in order for his departure so Spock left to join his parents in the garden.

Amanda was there, tending the _favinit_. A frown marred her features. He studied her movements for several moments, unsure which emotion she was experiencing. Sarek motioned to the chair next to him, and Spock sat down. His height had surpassed his father's for over a year now.

"You leave in a short while," Sarek pointed out, as if Spock could forget.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw Amanda flinch. He nodded, though it had not been a question. His mother sat on the other side of him, hands folded in her lap and eyes downcast. She opened her mouth and suddenly closed it, frowning once again. Spock sensed that she was preventing herself from voicing her disapproval as she had since his announcement.

Instead, Sarek spoke. "While we do not support your choice, it is imperative that you understand why. Earth is dangerous for male omegas. You may never find the acceptance you desire on Vulcan, but you will be safe once you pursue scientific studies at the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Most humans do not have the necessary olfactory to differentiate alpha, beta, and omega scents," Spock disclaimed. "They may never know that I am an omega."

Sarek raised a single eyebrow. His tone harsh, he continued, "Starfleet is comprised of more than humans; others—such as Orions—may have the propensity to distinguish role scents."  
"I have contacted a doctor in San Francisco that is requesting test subjects for a new suppressant prescription. She has approved my participation in the trial," Spock said.

"There's too much risk," Amanda declared, her mask finally slipping. "It's pointless to endanger yourself just to hide what you are."

"Social reform has also been implemented on Earth and Vulcan. I have the right to make this decision now," Spock reminded.

"You would not have been able to apply without social reform," Sarek conceded. "However, we cannot condone Starfleet. How can you reconcile Vulcan philosophy with the violence inherent within a military organization?"

Spock stood. "I understand your concern, and I would be foolish not to heed your counsel. I will be cautious, but I will not stay." He stood to leave, but hesitated. "Am I mistaken in understanding that this will be the final time we are to communicate with one another?"

"No, you are not," Sarek avowed.

Amanda gasped, and Spock had trouble not looking away from his father's dominating stare to the tears falling down her cheeks. He did not look away though, meeting Sarek with the same intensity. Sarek was the one that ended the unspoken challenge. The victory was a hollow one.

Spock left for Starfleet, closing all other doors with him.

* * *

Keep an eye out for the next chapter update on Monday.

Next - "Planetary Nebula"


	6. Planetary Nebula

**A/N**: This chapter has been beta read by Azurala, ShamelessSpocker, TheGlassAuthor, and thisislogical.

I apologize for the extended break I was forced to take. I hope to resume a weekly chapter update schedule. Thank you for your kind understanding!

* * *

Spock was in a hallway littered with doors. It seemed endless in both directions. To his right, there was a narrow, indigo door neatly labelled with modern Vulcan script.

_Starfleet._

Stepping forward made it slide open with a click. Inside was another series of doorways. Behind a chrome door, Spock began placing his impressions and memory of the day's events. As usual, he was using this visualization to contemplate infinitesimal aspects of his recollection when a noise drew him out of the meditation cycle. He opened his eyes and was in his shared dorm once again.

"Didn't mean to startle you," a male Deltan apologized with a smirk. "I'm Ca-Allad. That's Leah." He pointed a thumb behind him to a young woman.

Their scents were familiar to him. They were two of the three roommates assigned to his room for the duration of testing until the cadets were sorted. Perspiration was dripping from their skin, and making their clothing damp. He surmised that they had just returned from the obstacle course.

"I am Spock." He raised his hand in the _ta'al_ gesture.

Ca-Allad grabbed the Vulcan's hand and seemed pleased when he stiffened defensively. "I was wondering who smelled so delicious earlier, wasn't I, Leah?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, but you said that it was an omega scent. Stop touching him, can't you see he doesn't like that?"

"Indeed, I do not appreciate your lack of physical boundaries," Spock bit out. He did not look away, aware that if he did, the alpha would have proof that he was an omega. However, he also did not resist, mind suddenly drowsy from the flood of Deltan pheromones.

Instead of releasing his hand, Ca-Allad laughed and took the other hand as well, the contact scorching hot. "If only you could smell him, you would understand," he told Leah.

Spock started to let the irritation leak past his shields, still unable to find the motivation to draw away. Deltans were empaths, and this one was sure to feel it while touching him. However, he still kept a tight rein on the fear that was swirling below the anger. Rumors were sure to follow this incident, no matter what he did.

Ca-Allad interlaced their fingers, and Spock felt his stomach begin to flutter in response. Not only were his hands extremely sensitive, Deltan pheromones were stronger than any other known humanoid. Usually the scent of an unknown alpha stung his nose, but Ca-Allad's was enticing. In fact, he was starting to realize why he had not tried to pull away yet.

He felt his cheeks and ears flush with shame from his lack of reaction. T'Pring had not reacted this way when sexually harassed, why wasn't he fighting back as well? He was being weak. Spock could no longer meet the Deltan's eyes and tried to pull away half-heartedly. Ca-Allad crowed in triumph.

"See, I told you it was an omega I scented," he bragged. Ca-Allad sniffed the air again, pupils dilating.

Leah was rolling her eyes. "Just because you're craving a whiff of omega slick doesn't mean he's one. I bet you're thinking of that girl down the hall, she's a knot-hungry omega."

Spock swallowed. His thoughts were too lethargic and disorganized to react properly to what was being said. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog caused by Ca-Allad's presence. T'Pring had warned him to be careful not to be drugged. Alphas and betas could do what they wanted when an omega was unable to give consent, let alone struggle. But he had not consumed anything that might disguise—

"If you hadn't already taken your oath, I would have told you to find her before she drops out of Starfleet altogether." She looked Spock up and down. "I can't smell him. There's no way this Vulcan's an omega."

He could tell Leah was a beta, confident in her place amongst other cadets, and unable to understand why an omega would enlist. Meanwhile, Ca-Allad's thoughts began to leak through their contact. He seemed to find amusement in Spock's distress, merely finding his oath of celibacy problematic. It was something easily fixed by the company of an omega, willing or not. The fear was finally strong enough tear away his hands and clench them into fists by his side. It was quickly joined by anger.

"He's mad now, Leah," teased Ca-Allad. "I think it's kind of hot."

Spock's thoughts were finally clearing despite the alpha pheromones. The rush of cortisol blocked the spike of oxytocin he experienced around Ca-Allad. It seemed that the only way he could control himself was through the same anger that made him fight with Stonn when he was eleven. Fortunately, it held the shame at bay as well.

Leah grabbed Ca-Allad's elbow. "He's mad at _you_, idiot. Didn't you know Vulcans don't like to be touched? Keep your hands to yourself," she warned. Then she looked down at Spock, who was still sitting on his cot. "Let's go to the mess, alright? You can join us, we don't bite," she offered with a conciliatory smile.

Ca-Allad matched her smile, but his eyes were predatory. "And since you're not an omega, we can talk about the best ones to prey on. I may have taken my oath, but that doesn't mean you two can't chase tail."

"Your mind's in the gutter," Leah complained. She proceeded to drag him out of the room. The sound of the door closing was a relief.

Spock closed his eyes against the headache forming. He moved to gather his toiletries. An extensive sonic shower was in order. It had been a long day, and it would be reasonable to be thorough in the first shower since he arrived. In fact, it would be prudent to use the highest level and scrub his skin until it was green and raw. He would clean away the filth of Ca-Allad's touch and scent and how disgusting he felt.

He only wished that he could do the same with his own scent.

* * *

It was morning and he was still unable to meet anyone's eyes. Leah and Ca-Allad were easy to avoid in the noise and unnecessary movement from the other cadets that threatened to crush him. They were surrounded by a large group of friends. Their laughter echoed disproportionally in his mind until he could stand it no longer and left the cafeteria.

He picked at his breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal and blueberries. Amanda had enjoyed the same on special occasions, but he could not find the appetite to do the same. He finished quickly and left for Dr. Jimenez's office.

Spock arrived several minutes early, even though he had nearly lost himself in the crowd. After the incident with Ca-Allad, he was hyperaware of every brush of skin against his hands. The touches had nearly sent him into a panic until he shoved his hands into coat pockets. He resolved to purchase a pair of gloves.

Recalling the three years of endless doctor appointments and hospital assessments, he found the process familiar. He handed the office nurse a data chip with his medical history and personal information. It was processed quickly, and he found himself guided to a room by a male nurse that was brusque and did not hesitate in his questions. "Name?"

"S'chn T'gai Spock."

The man blinked. "Could you spell that for me?"

He obliged the nurse. It was interesting to note that his full name proved to be impossible for all humans to pronounce, and it was not just Amanda that had difficulty.

"And you're here for the Supprimiolfac trials, right? What's your role again?"

He faltered before confessing, "I am omega." His voice was gentle.

After several seconds of silence that Spock refused to disrupt, the nurse resumed his tapping. "Have you ever had a rut—wait, I mean, a heat cycle?"

"Yes, but I am not expecting another for several more years," he said.

The nurse's brow furrowed. "Heat cycles and ruts happen once a year," he prompted. "Even with over-the-counter suppressants, you're going to experience most of the symptoms."

"Vulcans have one heat cycle every seven years," Spock informed him serenely. It was mortifying that an outsider would know, but to not be truthful would bring even more awkward questions. At least he didn't have to explain the differences between a simple heat cycle and _Pon Farr_.

"Hmmm," the nurse mumbled something under his breath and tapped on the PADD. "That's good to know, I suppose. So you're on suppressants, right?"

"Affirmative."

"Good," the nurse responded absentmindedly. Spock pointedly did not bristle at the implication. "Just a couple more questions, Mr. Spock, and the doctor can talk with you." He looked up from the screen. "How old were you for your first heat?"

He refused to react physically to the unpleasant memory. "I was eighteen years, two months, and sixteen days old."

"You haven't had any since?"

"It has only been two years," Spock reminded.

The nurse mumbled something under his breath so quietly that even Vulcan hearing could not distinguish. "How did you deal with your heat at the time?"

"Medication, isolation, and meditation," He intoned.

After blocking T'Pring from his mind, Spock had apprised his parents of the situation. They had brought a Healer that helped him prevent _plak tow_—which would have killed him—by keeping the walls between his and T'Pring's mind firmly in place. If an alpha had been allowed near him during _Pon Farr_, he might have been claimed, as omegas had often been pre-reform.

"Are you sexually active?" the nurse asked.

He was beginning to tire or the pointless line of questioning and having to repeat himself. Surely the man was able to make basic calculations based off of what he had already been told? "I will not have my heat cycle for another five years."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know? Does this mean you've _never_ been sexually active?"

Spock raised his eyebrow in response. It garnered the same reaction he had observed when Sarek made the expression. Looking considerably paler, the nurse finished his report and set the PADD on a desk. "Everything looks to be in order. The doctor will see you in a couple of minutes, sir."

He tipped his head in acknowledgement and watched him leave. Spock did not sit to wait, preferring to stand. He wondered if saying "thank you" to the nurse would have been appropriate. Humans often used many superfluous phrases and words as part of their daily interactions.

"Good afternoon," a woman with greying hair said, walking in. "Mr. Spock, is it?" At his nod, she continued, "My name is Dr. Jimenez. I'll be taking care of you today." She glanced at the PADD for a moment, enlarging the chart. "You're here today for the Supprimiolfac trials, is that right?"

"I am," he said.

Dr. Jimenez set down the PADD after another minute of study. "It says you have no known allergies to medication?"

"Correct," Spock answered.

"That's a bit surprising, considering," she responded. The doctor watched his reaction. "Most people would assume that someone with a mixed heritage would be prone to allergies or have a less clean bill of health than you do."

He lifted an eyebrow again, though less severely than the last time. "They would be correct. I suffered from hormonal imbalance issues for three years, one month, and eighteen days until I was seven years and two months exactly. It required specialized treatment to resolve."

She nodded as if pleased. "Did you read the section on potential side effects for Supprimiolfac before you signed the contract?" Dr. Jimenez peered at him from behind her spectacles. "I've seen too many omegas jump into this without realizing what can happen because they're so eager to be playing with the alphas and betas in Starfleet. This suppressant is going to prevent everyone from scenting your pheromones and it keeps your heat cycles from starting. But if you miss one dosage, you'll have to wait a week until your body is capable of taking suppressants again. That includes your over-the-counter kind."

He squared his shoulders. "I am Vulcan. All possible side effects have been researched and deemed acceptable." Spock locked eyes with her in what turned out to be a surprisingly short contest of wills.

Dr. Jimenez grinned, seemingly unfazed. "They're going to love you at Starfleet. I can't even tell that you're an omega by talking with you. You'll do," she concluded. Then, she tapped on the PADD for several seconds in a flurry of motion. "You're all set, Mr. Spock. You'll have to fill out a feedback report before every refill, but you can do that in the office when we have our monthly visits. Have a great day."

The doctor handed him the encoded data chip for his prescription. He took it with careful fingers, wary of contact. She walked him to the door, both of them quiet. The door had almost closed behind her when Spock turned around and said, "Thank you."

* * *

Next - "White Dwarf"


	7. White Dwarf

**A/N**: This chapter has been beta read by Azurala, ShamelessSpocker, and TheGlassAuthor. Without them, this chapter would be a lot less...whatever positive adjective you'd like to use. I really appreciate all the hard work they do. :)

* * *

"I'm just as fluent in Vulcan. It is highly 'improbable' that I mistranslated the last chapter of my _favorite book_."

"Am I to agree with you simply because you hold _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ in high regard?"

Amanda smiled despite her mock rage, unable to continue the charade. "I will admit I could be wrong. Send me your notes and I'll have your father give his opinion." She attempted the suggestion casually, hoping to ease Sarek into the conversation.

"There is no need to speak of the one who is your husband," Spock informed her stiffly.

She sighed. Spock's eyes flicked over her features, obviously noting her dramatic display of emotion. It seemed to unsettle him. Usually Amanda was more subtle with her expressions.

"I know why you don't want to talk about your father, Spock. I still don't approve of your enlistment, but I believe that disinheriting you was wrong. I can see what it's doing to you." Amanda felt the pressure of angry, unshed tears. She managed to draw upon her training though, and breathed evenly. "It's been two years since you left, but I can tell that you've lost weight. You look like you hardly sleep. Please, _Spock-kam_, you can tell me anything."

Spock's eyes were wide open, and his face had gone pale as he stared into the camera. With a gesture she had never witnessed in her son before, he raised trembling fingers to the screen, as if wanting to reach through and touch her. Amanda copied the movement.

"The matter is complicated, Mother."

She watched him regain his composure; his pupils were still black pin-points. Amanda drew back herself, hoping her silence would draw out his words like poison from a wound. He was so rarely frightened—let alone in a way that could be visibly observed—it made her want to hold him.

He had stopped letting her hold him when he was three. It was so long ago, but she ached to reclaim that right as a mother.

"I will not deny that I miss Vulcan and he who is my father. I miss you. However, 'homesickness' is not a quantifiable illness, but rather another figure of speech. What I suffer from is not caused by Supprimiolfac either."

He looked distracted, and glanced away from the screen for a moment. It was only for a fraction of a second, and If she didn't know better, she might have suspected that he was protracting the inevitable. But she knew better. She was his mother.

Still, the silence dragged on.

Finally, she prompted, "What is it, Spock?"

"I have been compromised," he answered at once. "My meditations are harder to maintain. I am more sensitive to the presence and contact of others due to the state of my shields." Every syllable made his body tight with tension, as if he were a rubber band being stretched to the point before it snapped.

She sat ramrod straight in response. Concern plainly adorned her face, an expression she often felt but rarely conveyed physically.

Spock spoke in a lower tone. "I feel…immense guilt and shame." His dark eyes seemed to stare beyond her, as if he was not completely present. He sometimes looked the same way when he was engrossed in a question that took all of his mental capacity.

Amanda watched him, regaining her neutral expression. She did not want to further intrude with any further displays. But there was still bile in the back of her throat, sour and acidic.

"When I first arrived at Starfleet, there was an alpha cadet that used his empathic abilities and Deltan pheromones to sexually harass me." Spock closed his eyes a second longer than necessary. "I did not understand the implications of his actions. It is because of me that he was able to do the worse to a female omega earlier this month."

She stared at the screen, mind numb to any appropriate reaction.

_This isn't happening._

He continued at a steady cadence. "While the cadet was discharged from Starfleet, no charges were pressed due to circumstantial evidence and his claim that he did not understand that his actions towards us constituted as sexual assault."

It took a moment for her to realize that was the end. No more words. The sentence was over, but the echo was still loud in her mind.

"Oh, Spock…"

In the back of her mind, she remembered the last time she had said the same thing to him. If only he had achieved _Kolinahr_ and enrolled in the Vulcan Science Academy, she wouldn't be listening to her only son admit to being sexually violated, impossibly far from home.

Sarek sensed her distress and reached through their link. His strength and love were a balm against the shock and anger. For a moment, Amanda forgot that as a human, she could not do the same for Spock, and reached for him. She only felt emptiness in response. He never heard her.

* * *

She entered Sickbay alone. Nurse Hans looked up at her from a desk, and she could see the foolish creature frantically begin to move about. She ignored further activity in favor of a biobed placed in a discreet corner of the room.

"Number One." Spock did not try to rise from where he lay, but instead bowed his head. His face was a motley of bruises in several states of repair. The worst was his left eye, which was swollen shut.

Obviously, if they had yet to begin dermal regeneration, the damage to the bones in his leg had been too severe to warrant any lesser distractions. She surmised that now that he was no longer in critical condition, they would proceed to the less serious injuries.

Her eyes scanned the biofunction monitor, assuming a parade rest. The data was fluctuating erratically. If the alarm sound had not been silenced, it would be ringing loud and clear in distress. "Dr. Boyce should have recalibrated the biobed for your specifications," she said.

While her tone had not been critical, having only made a simple observation, Spock responded. "I believe it is an issue with the biobed's programming. It resets after every examination report has been entered into the system."

Number One looked down at the PADD she held, the details of a report already glowing coldly on the screen. The backlight made a mosaic of color bleed onto her pale skin. "Then the good doctor is not at fault, only Nurse Hans for not sending the report requesting technical assistance until after I entered Sickbay."

She examined the report, filing away the necessary details. When she looked up again, dark brown eyes watched her with wariness. She sat down in a chair next to the biobed, the crisp lines of her uniform unbroken by creases thanks to years of practice. Omegas needed reassurance that they would not be attacked when injured, and decreasing her perceived height would alleviate any subconscious threat he was experiencing.

"Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?" he requested.

"I welcome it."

"Why are you here? Am I to be reprimanded for the events on Rigel VII?"

She looked up from her work. "No, you are to be promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. The captain wished to inform you in person, but he was…delayed."

It was easy to lie because she knew that Chris honestly wanted to talk with Spock, but found it hard to deal with his own misconceived guilt. He had agreed that a commendation was in order for Spock's actions, but left the details up to her.

She witnessed Spock's reaction, what little there was. He blinked once, and then continued breathing as normal. Instinct drove her to push him, curious about his ability to work despite physical distractions.

"You hold an A7 computer expert classification?"

His chin lifted a fraction of a centimeter. "Affirmative," he said.

Her smile was without warmth. "Then you should have no problem correcting the faulty programming."

"I will need a PADD." He did not look startled when she handed him her own. "This will take approximately five minutes."

She watched him open a program and start the code, fingers sliding and tapping in a quiet symphony of thought and action. It was an education to witness his aptitude. His thought process seemed unhindered by the medication. Once she observed an established rhythm had been set she continued speaking.

"Your file shows that you have completed the recommended course in Starfleet's hand-to-hand training as well as the basic forms of Vulcan martial arts."

"It is called _wehk-pukan_," he corrected quietly, almost as if he could not help himself.

"However, on Rigel VII, once you were disarmed, you still sustained serious injuries until unconscious. It seems that your advantage over humans in strength and speed made you overestimate your abilities against trained warriors."

Spock peered up at her from the PADD screen. His expression was neutral, holding no resentment or guilt. Still, she deliberately looked down at her blue, manicured fingernails. Staring could be deemed a dominance display, and not one she wished to engage in.

"Please understand me, Mr. Spock. This is not a reprimand, only an observation."

"It is an accurate observation," he said. Almost hesitantly, he resumed reprogramming the faulty biobed.

She waited patiently. After another minute, her silence was successful.

"Vulcan has higher gravity and less oxygen, making me stronger compared to my fellow cadets. I erred in thinking it was unnecessary to pursue further physical training."

He offered her the PADD, which she took back. Already the biobed was adjusting its calibrations on the biofunction monitor. The detected Vulcan vital signs were shown as normal.

"It is an easily amended error," she said. "If you had access to my file, you would be aware that I served in the military before enlisting in Starfleet. I have extensive training that would benefit you."

"Indeed?"

Number One turned off her PADD after a momentary glance to validate the code was implemented into the system. "I am willing to share that experience. It will require a serious commitment from you. You will spend your entire off-duty time slot—outside of sleep requirements—at the gym."

"I accept." His eyes shone with what might have been excitement on a more human face.

"Very good, I will begin the process to transfer you to the bridge on Alpha shifts. Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant."

* * *

TWO YEARS LATER

Spock woke at 4:45 to the insistent chime of his alarm. Another night spent on Earth. He showered and dressed before taking his suppressants at 5:00. Diligence was essential in his morning routine. Breaking it for any reason would leave him vulnerable to chaos or worse: his omega scent. Not that his morning routine had been altered since he started teaching at Starfleet Academy last year.

That could all change if he was careless.

Perhaps the majority of Starfleet students no longer dealt with role discrimination. The acceptance rate was almost equal that year, which was a vast difference from his time as a cadet. But he could not forget that as long as he was an omega, he was not safe.

After eating breakfast in his room, he took his morning run along the coast, rather than indoors. Patterns were necessary for an ordered life, but something in him sought the cool breeze. Above him, the birds began to call to one another.

He knelt in the damp sand, not quite assuming the meditative pose he intended when he first arrived. His mind still emptied out of habit though. Ignoring the sunrise behind him, he stared west towards the horizon, already calculating the sphere of the planet in the back of his mind.

The foam rushed inland. Dawn was just peeking over the San Francisco skyline, crepuscular rays breaking through cloud and fog. Sunlight began to warm his back just as the foam reached his knees. The clinging wet cloth on his skin was an unpleasant sensation, but one that was easily blocked with more formulas and a series of numbers.

Instead of departing right away to change clothing, he focused on a broken shell, running both index finger and thumb along its jagged edge. Its specification was unfamiliar to him, and he regretted not bringing his tricorder with him to the beach. He let it fall back to the sand and stood. His time was being wasted there if he was not cataloguing, studying, or meditating as usual.

The air still held the morning's chill. Fortunately, he still retained some habits from his time serving under Captain Pike, such as wearing a heavy undershirt in addition to the standard uniform. Even though he was stationed on Earth, learning under the tutelage of Number One had left its mark on him. Many of her mannerisms had been adopted. Continuing these habits gave him comfort in light of patterns that were just beginning to emerge.

Now that he was commissioned to reprogram the Kobayashi Maru as well as holding a teaching position at the Starfleet Academy, he was familiar with eating his meals alone. However, for the last 15 out of 29 days, his advanced phonology aide broke the pattern and joined him for lunch in the mess hall. The cadet sometimes used the time to coordinate classroom duties and confirm necessary details, but more often than not, she simply discussed trivial topics. He did not dissuade these conversations since he found them educational in the art of 'small talk.'

"Do you have a favorite food?" she asked him.

"To have a favorite food is illogical. The purpose of food is to provide necessary sustenance to the body. Anything else is secondary and therefore irrelevant."

The cadet looked taken aback by his response, and he considered why that would be the case. Perhaps she did not understand the importance of logic to his people. It was not unlikely that he was the first Vulcan she had interacted with on a regular basis. While Vulcan was one of the principal Federation members, they did not typically take permanent residence on Earth unless research or ambassadorial duties were in effect.

She held out her hands, palms flat. A human gesture meaning that the bearer held no weapons. "I'm sorry if I offended you with my presumption, sir. I'm not very tactful when trying to understand new cultures."

Ah. That Spock understood. Curiosity was what drove him to pursue science. Math and physics explained the universe in the same way languages were translated from one to another. They had common ground, it seemed.

"Perhaps your stated lack of tact in the face of foreign cultures should be cultivated, considering your linguistic track. You will be called upon to serve in diplomatic functions that require an open mind. In this case, no offense has been taken, Uhura. I was simply explaining my lack of…'favorites'." He watched the tension ease from her shoulders. "In truth, I find it educational conversing with you as well. I am still learning, and you provide a unique insight that I appreciate."

"Okay," she said. It was a lackadaisical reply to the reassurance he had provided, but it would suffice. She glanced towards an empty table and stood quickly in alarm. "I'm late!" Uhura grabbed her bag, an orange, and waved goodbye. It was not a gesture that he returned.

Already he was focusing on the familiar but exciting pattern that was the Kobayashi Maru. His attention was once again being captivated with restructuring the equations on his PADD to a more complex rendering. It consumed all of his conscious thought for the rest of the day.

* * *

Nyota stretched where she stood, lithe runner muscles visible. She had just finished grading several tests and was done for the week. He did not look up from his desk, expecting her to leave quietly as she usually did.

What she did instead was ask, "Are you hungry yet? I know this great restaurant not too far."

"Negative."

He felt unsettled, but hid the emotion behind filing the graded tests. They had been working together for 7 months and 11 days, and she had never offered something like this before. She had broken the pattern with a simple question. Then again, perhaps he had done so first by referring to her by her first name 4 days ago.

Nyota seemed unfazed by his rejection. "Maybe next weekend? I'll see you on Monday," she said as she waved goodbye. He watched her carefully for any signs of distress, but found none in the way she walked, ponytail swaying in time with her step.

"Good night, Nyota."

She left without a glance back. Spock stared at the closed door for a moment before deciding the matter too inconsequential to examine thoroughly, and returned to his work.


End file.
